Submissive Secretary Dominated by her Boss

Riley wants the raise. She’s twenty-six, blonde, blue-eyed, the secretary who smiles through long hours and short thanks. Christian sits behind the desk like he owns the hour itself. When she finally asks, he doesn’t blink. He just tells her to stand, turn, and put her hands on the edge of the desk. The skirt rides up; the room gets quiet. He doesn’t rush. One hand follows the line of her spine, the other slides between her thighs, testing. She feels the age in his touch, steady, used to getting what he wants. Fingers hook her panties aside, and two of them slip in without asking. Riley bites her lip, stays still, breathes through it. He works her slow, stretching her, then adds a third. When she’s wet enough that the sound fills the quiet, he pulls his hand back and unzips. He bends her lower, chest to papers. The first thrust pushes the air out of her. Christian sets a deliberate pace, deep, deliberate, like he’s deciding how much she can take. Each stroke knocks the desk forward an inch. She grips the wood, legs shaking. He grabs her hair, angles her head, and she opens her mouth for him without being told. Later he sits on the leather chair and pulls her onto his lap, facing him. She sinks down until he’s all the way inside. He guides her hips in small circles, then lets her ride. Sweat gathers at the small of her back. When he’s close he stands again, bends her over the desk once more, fucks her until he pulls out and finishes across her tongue. Riley swallows, wipes the corner of her mouth, and waits to hear the number.